


Christmas Eve, 1869

by Colonel_Murph



Series: Where’s this going? [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Psychic Abilities, The Gelth, The Sight, Victorian Cardiff, the rift - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24435595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colonel_Murph/pseuds/Colonel_Murph
Summary: Victorian Cardiff, Christmas Eve, 1869. Ianto Jones is having a bad day full of not so dead corpses, not so human Doctors, a not so Victorian Lady and Charles Dickens is there for a bit too. Basically The Unrequited Dead but I changed it a bit in a lovely twisted way :)
Series: Where’s this going? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764727
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Christmas Eve, 1869

**Author's Note:**

> Um, hi? It’s me, I’m at it again and back on my bullshit :) Been a tough month but inspiration finally stuck and you get this. Enjoy or don’t, but you’ll have more fun if you do.

From the moment Ianto had woken up, cold and shivering under his scratchy old blanket, he knew his day was going to be far from pleasant. What little sleep he had gotten was interrupted by the voices, the never ending voices that had plagued him for as long as he could remember but that wasn’t the half of it. This December had been harsher than last, the chill in the air biting at his fingers and toes even inside the Chapel of Rest where Sneed refused to turn the gas on for him. Though he supposed, as he hastily got dressed, it could be a lot worse. At least he had a roof over his head and a steady wage coming in, he may even be allowed home on Christmas Day tomorrow to visit his sister. They were little more than strangers now after years of living apart but it was better than staying holed up in his drafty room for the evening. 

No time for breakfast he hurried to attend to his duties, a quiet morning was spent dusting and polishing the Chapel and Sneed sent him out to collect his purchases from the market in the afternoon without care that he would return looking like a drowned rat because of the rain. With no time to dry off he spent the rest of his day outside in the icy stables, mucking them out and mourning his woes with old Sampson, his masters horse.

He didn’t hear Sneed calling for him inside, his back turned away from the corpse stumbling out of the house and down the street, in fact he had no idea something was wrong until he ambled back inside the house and found his boss mopping his brow, “Ianto! Where’ve you been, boy? I was shouting.”

“I’ve been in the stables, sir,” he explained quickly, eager to avoid punishment, “breaking the ice for old Sampson.”

“Well,” Sneed barked his orders “get back in there and harness him up.”

That didn’t sound good, Ianto straitened, “Whatever for, sir?” He had a bad feeling about this, please tell him it hadn’t happened again? Surely today couldn’t get any worse.

Sneed proved him wrong, “The stiffs are getting lively again. Mister Redpath’s grandmother,” he gestured at the front door, “she’s up and on her feet and out there somewhere on the streets. We’ve got to find her.”

“Mister Sneed, for shame,” Ianto’s mother had raised him to never speak ill of the dead but she’d never taught him what to do if the dead came back, “How many more times? It’s ungodly.”

“Don’t look at me like it’s my fault,” he mocked him, “Now, come on, hurry up. She was eighty six. She can’t have got far.”

Ducking his head, thoroughly chastised, Ianto dared to ask, “What about Mister Redpath? Did you deal with him?”

“No,” Sneed told him, “She did.”

“That’s awful, sir,” Ianto chose to believe Mister Redpath had died of fright, the alternative being something that he rather not dwell upon, “I know it’s not my place, and please, forgive me for talking out of turn, sir but this is getting beyond, now.” Sneed seemed to be of the same mind, nodding his head in agreement, “Something terrible is happening in this house, and we’ve got to get help.”

“And we will,” Sneed shook his head, “as soon as I get that dead old woman locked up and safe and sound. Now stop prevaricating, boy. Get the hearse ready,” he turned to take his coat, “We’re going body snatching.”

With dread pooling in his stomach Ianto did as he was told, heading out back into the cold with only his thin black coat to starve off the chill as he got the hearse ready. Thankfully only a thin layer of snow had settled on the streets, he abhorred sitting in the carriage with Sneed but it was worse when there was a risk of the wheels skidding out in the snow.

Old Samson and Timothy were most put out at the interruption of their meal but didn’t put up much of a fuss while Ianto harnessed them up. Sneed took the reins and impatiently waited for him to climb up as well, tutting and huffing in annoyance when Ianto hesitated, “We don’t have all night boy.”

He was right of course, Mrs Redpath was out there somewhere, roaming the streets and they had to find her before… well before something worse happened.

Half an hour of trolling the streets proved fruitless though and Sneed was getting more snappish by the second, “Not a sign,” he huffed as the hearse was pulled slowly down the road, “Where can she be?”

“She’s vanished, sir.” Ianto looked up when Sneed brought the hearse to a halt, looking around but he saw no sign of their lost corpse, “Where is she?”

“You tell me, boy,” he grunted in a low voice, patience worn thin.

“What do you mean?” Ianto asked, his nails digging into the palms on his hands on his lap, surely he wasn’t asking what he thought he was asking.

“Ianto,” his eyes bored into him expectantly, “you know full well.”

Shaking his head, Ianto pleaded, “No, sir. I can’t.”

“Use the sight,” he ordered in a hushed tone.

“It’s not right, sir,” he hated using his sight, his mother had called it a gift before she died. His father hadn’t agreed but Ianto didn’t have to worry about him now, the man unable to hurt him from beyond the grave. An orphan at age 12 he’d ended up with Sneed, his sister staying in the village they grew up in as she’d been already engaged at the time to her now husband. He wasn’t sure who got the worse deal in the end. 

“Find the old lady or you’re dismissed,” Sneed threatened, “Now, look inside, boy. Look deep. Where is she?”

With little other choice Ianto did has he was told, closing his eyes for a moment as he searched. She wasn’t hard to find, a beacon of light in the darkness all around, “She’s lost, sir,” Ianto reached out towards the light, holding on tight even as emotions and memories not his own began to plague his mind, “She’s so alone,” he could feel it, “Oh, my lord, so many strange things in her head.”

“But where?” Sneed pushed.

“She’s excited,” Ianto whispered as the light began to pull away, “about tonight. Before she passed on, she was going to see him.”

“Who’s him?”

“The great man,” Ianto focused, trying to cling on, “All the way from London, the great, great man.”

-

Ianto had never been to the theatre before, much less to watch someone as revered as Mister Dickens. He surely would’ve been captivated by the mans performance if not for the fact something was very, very wrong. He could feel Mrs Redpath’s presence here, she was somewhere in the crowd but that wasn’t all. There was something else, someone else, close to theatre that didn’t belong. He knew not how he knew but he could feel it nonetheless.

“Now, it is a fact that there was nothing particular at all about the knocker on the door of this house, but let any man explain to me if he can, how it happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without it’s undergoing any intermediate process of change,” Mr Dickens held his audience captivated, “not a knocker, but Marley’s face. Marley’s face! It looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look. It looked like…” 

Dickens stopped as Mrs Redpath began to glow in her seat, a faint blue mist emitting from her, “Oh, my lord. It looked like that!” He pointed shakily and the whole theatre turned to see, “What phantasmagoria is this?”

Sneed groaned as the corse began to rise, the audience screaming as she started flying around the auditorium, more than half fleeing their seats, “Stay in your seats,” Mr Dickens begged, “it is a lantern show. It’s trickery.”

Feeling the need to point out the obvious as Sneed had yet to react to what was happening beyond his first startled groan, Ianto pointed, “There she is, sir!”

“I can see that,” he snapped as the police began to blow their whistles outside, “the whole blooming world can see that!”

A man in a strange coat, accompanied by one of the most beautiful blonde women Ianto had ever seen, entered the theatre. Both of them screamed of something Ianto could not place, they felt… almost as if they did not belong here, like the corpses did after they were risen but different in some inexplainable way. He did not have long to ponder their mystery though as Mrs Redpath collapsed, dead as she had been that morning, and Sneed demanded his help removing her.

Out of the corner of his eye Ianto saw the strange man approach Mr Dickens but the Lady began to pursue them, “Oi! Leave her alone!” She sounded English, obviously far from home, “Doctor, I’ll get them.”

Her companion, this Doctor, called after her to be careful and Sneed picked up his pace, not wanting to be caught with their runaway corpse. Thankfully the hearse was parked up just outside and Sneed wasted no time lifting Mrs Redpath into the back as fast as he could.

Unfortunately they weren’t fast enough.

“What’re you doing?!” The English Lady caught up with them outside the theatre and grabbed Ianto’s shoulder to try and see into the back of the hearse.

“Oh, it’s a tragedy, miss. Don’t worry yourself,” he blocked her view, “me and the master will deal with it. The fact is, this poor lady’s been taken with the brain fever and we have to get her to the infirmary.” He lied, stumbling back as the Lady shoved him, not daring to shove her back as it surely wasn’t worth the price.

“She’s cold,” the Lady felt her neck, “She’s dead! Oh my God,” she was outraged and rightly so, “what’d you do to her?”

Ianto would tell himself later that he didn’t have time to stop what happened next but in truth, deep down, he knew Sneed had him frozen in fear when he snook up behind the woman and held a cloth over her mouth. He’d been horrified to watch her struggle, too scared to move until she went limp in his masters arms. He had to ask himself, how often did Sneed resort to these measures? He certainly didn’t seem like this was his first time, his movements sure and steady.

“What did you do that for?” How many women had he done this to for it to warrant such a lack of reaction from him? Ianto had known Sneed wasn’t a particularly nice man but this was much worse than he’d imagined.

“She’s seen too much.” Sneed told him coldly “Get her in the hearse.” 

It was a tense ride back to the Chapel but nothing could compare to the suffocating atmosphere once they laid out Mrs Redpath and their kidnapped Lady. Ianto could tell Sneed was panicking, the beaded sweat on his brow and shaking hands were a clear mark he knew not what to do.

“The poor girl’s still alive, sir,” Ianto stood over the poor woman Sneed had placed on the table, it wasn’t right to keep her in here with the Redpath’s, “What’re we going to do with her?” It’s not like they could let her walk out the door the minute she woke up, they’d be charged with kidnapping but Ianto didn’t think he could stand by and let Sneed…. do what he does with lose ends, either.

“I don’t know! I didn’t plan any of this,” that much at least, Ianto believed, “it isn’t my fault if the dead won’t stay dead.”

“Then whose fault is it, sir?” Ianto asked even though he knew Sneed had no answers for him, “Why is this happening to us?”

Sealing the chapel door behind them, Sneed slumped in the hallway, “I did the Bishop a favour, once. Made his nephew look like a cherub even though he’d been a fortnight in the weir.” He mused, “Perhaps he’ll do us an exorcism on the cheap.” A knock at the door had both their heads snapping up to stare at the old lacquered wood, “Say I’m not in. Tell them we’re closed. Just,” Sneed turned and started down the hall, going to hide, “just get rid of them.”

Expecting the police or worse, Ianto was lost for words when he opened the door and saw Mr Dickens himself on the stoop, the Lady’s Doctor companion half a step or so behind him, “I- I’m sorry, sir,” Ianto held the door half closed, using it as a shield, “we’re closed.”

“Nonsense,” Dickens scoffed, “Since when did an Undertaker keep office hours? The dead don’t die on schedule.” He huffed, “I demand to see your master.”

“He’s not in, sir.” 

Ianto tried to smile politely as he closed the door but Charles stepped forwards and forced the door back open with a growl, “Don’t lie to me, child,” he raised his voice, “Summon him at once.”

“I’m awfully sorry, Mister Dickens,” Ianto pointedly ignored the gas lamp flaring behind him, “but the master’s indisposed.”

“Having trouble with your gas?” The Lady’s Doctor inquired as a ruckus could be heard further inside the house, specifically inside the Chapel of rest.

Dickens peered down the hall as the Doctor slid past Ianto to inspect the gas lamp mounted on the wall, “What the Shakespeare is going on?”

“You’re not allowed inside, sir,” Ianto pleaded as the man listened to the wall, Sneed was going to dock his pay for this, if not worse, “you’ll get me into trouble.”

“There’s something inside the walls,” the Doctor tapped at the wooden panels, “the gas pipes. Something’s living inside the gas,” the sound of broken china drifted down the hall, shortly followed by a woman’s cry for help.

Ianto was helpless to stop the men entering the house, he could only follow after them and try make himself as small as possible when Sneed confronted them, most of his attention on the intruders, “How dare you sir, this is my house!” it almost worked as well until Mr Dickens told him to shut up. It was at that point he rounded on Ianto, “I told you!” he’d be lucky to still have a job tomorrow at this rate, his hopes of visiting his sister snuffed out with a single glare.

Not that his day off was at all important in the grand scheme of things, no when they had a Lady trapped in a room with the corpses, “Let me out! Somebody open the door!” The Lady could be heard trying to get out, her muffled screams rising in volume once the Doctor kicked the door in to get to her.

“I think this is my dance,” The Doctor pulled the Lady away from Mr Redpath and Ianto was relieved to see she wasn’t harmed.

Cowering behind the Doctor slightly in fear, Dickens couldn’t believe his eyes. Ianto would be in a similar state if he hadn’t seem near identical images before. The Redpath’s weren’t the first corpses to act this way in the Chapel, his nightmares had been fuelled by the dead for months now, “It’s a prank,” Dickens claimed, “it must be. We’re under some mesmeric influence.”

“No, we’re not,” the Doctor turned to check on his Lady companion, “The dead are walking. Hi.”

“Hi,” she clung to his arm and Ianto was amazed at how calm she seemed, “Who’s your friend?”

“Charles Dickens.” He told her.

Surprised, she nodded but asked no questions, “Okay.”

Turning back to the corpses to give them his full attention the Doctor introduced himself, “My name’s the Doctor. Who are you, then?” He asked, “What do you want?”

Mr Redpath replied with the voices Ianto had been hearing in his sleep, sounding as if he were in great pain, “Failing. Open the rift, we’re dying- trapped in this form. Cannot sustain,” the voices begged, “help us.”

And then, as quickly as the gas had entered them, it once again released the bodies it had briefly inhabited and returned to the gas lamps. The corpses collapsing at the Doctors feet once more.

-

After all the excitement Ianto found himself in front of the teapot, hands moving without a thought as he handed out drinks in the living room. He tried to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, not wanting to draw attention to himself as the Lady who had introduced herself as Rose started giving Sneed an earful. Rightly so mind you, he just wasn’t so keen on her ire being directed at him.

“First of all you drug me, then you kidnap me, and don’t think I didn’t feel your hands having a quick wander,” she told him off, “you dirty old man.” 

“I won’t be spoken to like this!” From his armchair Sneed tried to defend himself but it was no use, Lady Rose simply steamrolled right over him.

“Then you stuck me in a room full of zombies! And if that ain’t enough,” she hauled him over the coals, “you swan off and leave me to die! So come on, talk!”

“It’s not my fault- it’s this house,” he snapped back, unwilling to admit his wrongs, “It always had a reputation. Haunted, but I never had much bother until a few months back, and then the stiffs,” he paused as Dickens gave him an unimpressed look, “the er, dear departed,” he corrected himself, “started getting restless.”

“Tommyrot.” Dickens muttered behind his cup of tea.

“You witnessed it,” Sneed rebuked, “Can’t keep the beggars down, sir. They walk. And it’s the queerest thing, but they hang on to scraps.”

Weaving around the furniture, Ianto placed a cup of tea on the mantelpiece besides the Doctor, “Two sugars, sir,” he avoided looking the man in the eyes, everything about him was making Ianto overwhelmed, “just how you like it.”

“One old fellow who used to be a sexton almost walked into his own memorial service,” Sneed continued, “just like the old lady going to your performance, sir, just as she planned.”

“Morbid fancy.” Dickens scoffed as he rose from his seat.

“Oh, Charles,” The Doctor finally looked away from Ianto, letting the serving boy scuttle away as he lost his patience with Dickens, “you were there.”

Protesting, he refused to admit they were right, “I saw nothing but an illusion.”

“If you’re going to deny it, don’t waste my time. Just shut up,” Charles did just that, not having been spoken to like that in far too long, “What about the gas?” The Doctor asked Sneed.

“That’s new, sir,” he admitted, startled by the harsh tone he’d taken with Dickens, “n-never seen anything like that.”

Drawing his conclusions the Doctor knew he needed more to go on, “Means it’s getting stronger, the rift’s getting wider and something’s sneaking through.”

“What’s the rift?” Rose asked.

“A weak point in time and space. A connection between this place and another,” if the rift was getting wider that meant the whole planet was in danger, if the rift splintered open the planet- the entire solar system, could be sucked inside, “that’s the cause of ghost stories, most of the time.”

“That’s how I got the house so cheap,” Sneed muttered as Dickens passed him, “stories going back generations!” He paused to stare at the door Charles had slammed behind him before continuing his point, “Echoes in the dark, queer songs in the air, and this feeling like a shadow passing over your soul. Mind you, truth be told, it’s been good for business,” The Doctor grinned in the corner, clearly amused, “Just what people expect from a gloomy old trade like mine.”

“Quite right,” Pushing away from the wall, the Doctor eyed Ianto where he was collecting teacups and indicated his head to Rose, asking her to follow him, “I’d better go check on Charlie boy, don’t want him wandering off. You just stay here big fella, give us a shout if the gas starts acting up.”

It didn’t take him long to find Charles, the man was bent over a coffin in the room Rose had been held, waving his hand in front of Mr Redpath’s face, “Checking for strings?”

“Wires, perhaps,” Dickens sounded desperate, “there must be some mechanism behind this fraud.” Oh how far the human race would go to ignore what was staring them in the face, it was remarkable how blind they could will themselves into being.

“Oh, come on, Charles. All right,” he conceded as he drew the man away from the coffin, “I shouldn’t have told you to shut up. I’m sorry,” he apologised, “but you’ve got one of the best minds in the world. You saw those gas creatures.”

Dickens refused, “I cannot accept that.”

Seeing flattery wasn’t going to work, The Doctor tried to use logic instead, “And what does the human body do when it decomposes? It breaks down and produces gas. Perfect home for these gas things. They can slip inside and use it as a vehicle, just like your driver and his coach.”

“Stop it,” Dickens turned away from him in distress, “Can it be that I have the world entirely wrong?”

“Not wrong,” the Doctor corrected him, “there’s just more to learn,” and that was never a bad thing.

“I’ve always railed against the fantasists. Oh, I loved an illusion as much as the next man, revelled in them,” he admitted, “but that’s exactly what they were, illusions. The real world is something else. I dedicated myself to that. Injustices, the great social causes. I hoped that I was a force for good,” he paused to catch his breath, “Now you tell me that the real world is a realm of spectres and jack-o’-lanterns. In which case, have I wasted my brief span here, Doctor?” He asked, clearly upset, “Has it all been for nothing?”

-

In the pantry Ianto lit the gas lamp, sliding his matchbox back in his pocket, appalled to see Rose had started washing the tea set behind him. When the Lady had followed after him he had assumed she wanted to ask after something, not do this, “Please, miss,” he put out the matchstick and tried to take the washcloth from her, “you shouldn’t be helping, it’s not right.” Not to mention Sneed would have a thing or two to say about if if he ever found out.

“Don’t be daft,” Rose smiled at him, “Sneed works you to death,” when Ianto insisted he take the cloth from her she handed it over, leaning against the counter to watch him instead. She found it odd that Ianto wouldn’t meet her eye, “How much do you get paid?”

“Eight pound a year, miss.” He glanced up and locked their gazes as if hearing her thoughts.

Shocked, Rose leant forwards and asked, “How much? She couldn’t have heard right.

“I know,” Ianto grinned, ducking his head, clearly misunderstanding her reaction, “I would’ve been happy with six!”

Rose watched him turn to the sink and tilted her head to one side, “So,” trying to keep the conversation going she asked, “did you go to school or what?”

“Of course I did,” Ianto laughed, glancing up at her from under his lashes, “What do you think I am, an urchin? I went every Sunday,” he smiled, many hadn’t been so lucky after all, “nice and proper.”

“What,” Rose checked, “once a week?”

Nodding, Ianto told her proudly, “We did sums and everything. To be honest,” he admitted quietly, unsure why he felt the compulsion to share his past with the Lady but doing so anyway, “I hated every second.”

Laughing quietly, Rose shook her head, “Me too,” looks like some things never changed then.

Chuckling along with her, Ianto glanced towards the door to check Mr Sneed wasn’t around before biting his lip, “Don’t tell anyone,” he paused, debating with himself but he’d started now and Rose was looking at him with such a kind, open smile, “but one week, I didn’t go and ran on the heath all on my own.”

Laughing louder this time, Rose nodded along, “I did plenty of that, I used to go down the shops with my mate Shareen,” she told him, the two of them grinning at each other, “we used to go and look at boys.”

“Well,” Ianto’s face dropped, his eyes widening a fraction before he turned back to the sink to continue his work, “I don’t know much about that, miss.” Truth be told he’d never so much as dared talk to someone who held his affections. Simply admiring from afar. He wasn’t… quite right. He knew things he shouldn’t know, dreamt dreams that didn’t belong to him. It didn’t help that he seemed to get butterflies around the butchers boy either, he’d heard stories about what happened to those types of people. His only comfort was that he felt the same way about plenty of girls too, he could just ignore the other half as far as he was concerned, it would land him in nothing but trouble.

“Come on,” Rose bumped their shoulders together, trying to get him to open up, “times haven’t changed that much,” they’d been having so much fun a moment ago, “I bet you’ve done the same.”

Ianto kept his back turned, “I don’t think so, miss.”

“Ianto, you can tell me.” Rose gave him another kind smile, her eyes alight with joy and a spark of mischief, “I bet you’ve got your eye on someone.”

Turning around, Ianto dithered, “I suppose… there is one girl.” It was worth it to see Rose’s grin, it was like watching the sun come out from beneath the clouds, “The Bakers daughter. She comes by every Tuesday,” he felt his face heat up as he confessed to her, “She has such a lovely smile.” 

“I like a nice smile,” Rose turned her head to one side with a sigh before turning back with a wicked grin, “Good smile, nice bum.”

Once again Ianto’s face went blank, his eyes widening a fraction as he shook his head, “Well, I have never heard the like.” He pointedly ignored the thought that he most certainly did understand what she was talking about and refused to admit he was thinking about the butchers boy again.

Rose just snickered, waiting until he cracked and joined in before offering some advice, “Ask her out,” she wasn’t entirely sure how courting was supposed to go, “give her a cup of tea or something, that’s a start.”

Shaking his head with a titter, Ianto frowned at her in bemusement, “I swear it is the strangest thing, miss. You’ve got all the clothes and the breeding, but you talk like some sort of wild thing.”

Rose thought about it, “Maybe I am. Maybe that’s a good thing,” she told him, “you need a bit more in your life than Mister Sneed.”

Now Ianto was far from the first person who’d jump to his defence but he wasn’t going to speak poorly of his master behind his back, “Oh, now that’s not fair. He’s not so bad, old Sneed,” he shrugged at the disbelieving look he received, “He was very kind to me to take me in because I lost my mam and dad to the flu when I was twelve.”

“Oh,” Rose hadn’t been expecting that, looking down at her feet in apology, “I’m sorry.”

This Lady was so far removed from everything Ianto had ever known that it was baffling, “Thank you, miss,” he reassured her for her kindness, “but I’ll be with them again, one day, sitting with them in paradise. They’re waiting for me, maybe your dad’s up there waiting for you too, miss.”

“Maybe,” Rose frowned, that was strange “Er, who told you he was dead?”

Realising his mistake, Ianto fiddled with the cloth in his hand, “I don’t know. Must have been the Doctor,” he lied.

“My father died years back,” Rose admitted when Ianto started putting away the washed cups, had she even told the Doctor about her father?

Ianto couldn’t help himself, “But you’ve been thinking about him lately more than ever.”

“I suppose so,” she asked, “how do you know all this? 

Leaning against the sink, Ianto rolled his eyes, “Mister Sneed says I think too much. I’m all alone down here.” He just needed to change the subject, “I bet you’ve got dozens of servants, haven’t you, miss?”

“No,” Rose was laughing again, “no servants where I’m from.”

But then it happened again, a flash in his mind. A picture, a memory, one that was not his own playing in the back of his head as if it belonged, he just couldn’t help himself, “And you’ve come such a long way.”

Startled, Rose got the feeling something was going on, “What makes you think so?”

Unable to look away, Ianto felt himself being drawn in, “You’re from London. I’ve seen London in drawings, but never like that.” He could see it and it was terrifying, “All those people rushing about half naked and the noise, and the metal boxes racing past, and the birds in the sky,” it was too much, he wanted to pull back but it was no use, more and more pictures, sounds, memories flooding in like a damn had broken, “no, they’re metal as well. Metal birds with people in them. People are flying. And you, you’ve flown so far. Further than anyone.” It no longer made sense, what he was seeing couldn’t be real, “The things you’ve seen. The darkness,” the never ended darkness, “the big bad wolf.” Jolted out of it, Ianto stumbled back in fear, pressing his back up against the cupboards with wide, scared eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, miss.”

“It’s all right.” Rose told him in a quiet voice as he panicked.

“I can’t help it. Ever since I was a little boy, my mam said I had the sight.” He whispered, “She told me to hide it.”

“But it’s getting stronger,” the Doctor was lounging in the doorway, neither one of them sure how long he’d been there, “more powerful, is that right?”

Seeing no point in lying now, Ianto nodded, “All the time, sir. Every night,” he rubbed his brow, maybe this Doctor could help him, “voices in my head.”

“You grew up on top of the rift. You’re part of it,” it was all starting to make sense, Ianto was the answer, “You’re the key.”

“I’ve tried to make sense of it, sir,” he told him, “Consulted with spiritualists, table rappers, all sorts.”

“Well, that should help,” The Doctor tucked his hands in his pockets, “you can show us what to do.”

Mr Sneed wasn’t going to like this, “What to do where, sir?” 

“We’re going to have a seance.”

-

Ianto didn’t know if he was more surprised that Sneed had permitted the attempt at a séance or that he was actually going to go through with it himself. It was all well and good trying to figure out what the voices in his head were but actively reaching out to them was something else entirely. What if he couldn’t do it? Would they all be sat there staring at him, waiting for something to happen, and be disappointed when nothing came of it?

It was too late to back out now though, everyone was gathered around the table waiting for his instructions, “This is how Madam Mortlock summons those from the Land of Mists, down in Bute Town,” he started shyly, not used to being at the centre of such attention, “we must all join hands.”

“I can’t take part in this.” Dickens rose from the table.

“Humbug?” The Doctor taunted him, “Come on, open mind.”

“This is precisely the sort of cheap mummery I strive to unmask. Seances?” He scoffed, “Nothing but luminous tambourines and a squeeze box concealed between the knees. This boy knows nothing.”

“Now, don’t antagonise him,” The Doctor sent a smile in Ianto’s direction, “I love a happy medium.” 

Rose shook her head in disbelief, even as she laughed, “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Raising his eyebrows at her, The Doctor nodded back at Charles’ seat, “Come on, we might need you.” Begrudgingly, Dickens sat back down between Rose and Ianto, privately thinking the entire charade ridiculous, “Good man. Now, Ianto, reach out.”

Feeling a tad self conscious but pushing through, Ianto addressed the room, “Speak to us. Are you there? Spirits,” he could feel them, “come. Speak to us that we may relieve your burden.”

And sure enough the whispering in his head soon voiced in self to the others sat around the table as well, “Can you hear that?” Rose asked with wide eyes, staring at Ianto with concern as his head snapped up to stare at the ceiling.

“Nothing can happen,” Dickens still refused to believe any of it was real, “this is sheer folly.”

“Look at him,” Rose nodded towards Ianto who was still staring up, blue wisps of gas drifting above his head like smokey tendrils.

“I see them,” Ianto’s voice sounded strained, “I feel them.” More and more gas started to fill the air above their heads, thick blue ropes emanating from Ianto.

Rose couldn’t make out the words, the whispers too faint, “What’s it saying?”

“They can’t get through the rift. Ianto,” the Doctor hoped he could hear him, “it’s not controlling you, you’re controlling it. Now,” he instructed, “look deep. Allow them through.” He needed to talk to them, find out what they wanted. He couldn’t help without more information and couldn’t leave in case they tore through the rift.

“I can’t!” Ianto whined, the voices pounding behind his eyes almost painfully.

“Yes you can,” the Doctor told him, “just believe it. I have faith in you, Ianto,” he insisted, he could do this, “make the link.”

Eyes snapping open, Ianto lowered his head and stared out across the table, “Yes,” as soon as he said the words, blue outlines of gas people appeared behind him, like beautiful guardian angels.

“Great God!” Sneed could barely believe his eyes, “Spirits from the other side!”

“The other side of the universe,” the Doctor said before the spirits spoke up.

“Pity us,” they sounded like children, weak and scared, “Pity the Gelth. There is so little time. Help us.”

Never having heard of the Gelth, the Doctor had no idea what they wanted, “What do you want us to do?” he asked immediately.

“The rift,” They spoke in unison, “Take the boy to the rift. Make the bridge.” 

“What for?” the Doctor couldn’t allow them to come to Earth for any old reason, if that’s even what they want the bridge for.

“We are so very few,” the Gelth pleaded, “The last of our kind, we face extinction.”

“Why,” the Doctor felt his hearts clench painfully in his chest, “what happened?”

“Once we had a physical form like you, but then the war came,” the Gelth explained, “The Time War. The whole universe convulsed. The Time War raged, invisible to smaller species but devastating to higher forms. Our bodies wasted away. We’re trapped in this gaseous state.”

Suddenly a lot more somber, the Doctor understood, “So that’s why you need the corpses.” He sometimes forgot that it wasn’t just his own people that had perished in the war, there were so many other civilisations out there that had suffered at the hands of the Timelords and the Daleks, sometimes it felt as if the war had never ended at all for all the peace it brought him.

“We want to stand tall, to feel the sunlight, to live again. We need a physical form,” they started flickering, “and your dead are abandoned. They’re going to waste.” They pleaded, “Give them to us.”

Rose denied them, “But we can’t.”

She hadn’t expected to be challenged, much less than by the Doctor, “Why not?”

“It’s not,” she shook her head, “I mean, it’s not-”

“Not decent?” He finished for her, “Not polite? It could save their lives.”

Begging, the Gelth began to fade away, “Open the rift. Let the Gelth through. We’re dying,” they sounded so scared, like lost children who needed their help, “Help us. Pity the Gelth.”

Sucked back into the gas lamps, the Gelth left Ianto and he collapsed across the table unconscious like a puppet with the strings cut. Rose was by his side in an instant, “Ianto?” She ignored Dickens as he finally accepted what they were saying was the truth and instead focused on trying to wake up her new friend, “Are you okay?” She got no response, “Mr Sneed, he needs to lay down.”

“Through this way,” Sneed helped her carry Ianto’s weary form as the Doctor and Dickens discussed the Gelth, “we can put him on the lounge.”

-

A little while later Ianto woke up and was confused as to why Rose was sat over him holding a cloth to his forehead before he remembered the angels, for that was surely what they were, “It’s all right,” Rose tried to push him back down as he went to sit up, “You just sleep.” 

“But my angels, miss,” he rubbed his eyes, “they came, didn’t they?” He asked, “They need me?”

The Doctor spoke up from the corner, “They do need you, Ianto.” He agreed, “You’re they’re only chance of survival.”

“I’ve told you,” Rose warned him, “leave him alone,” Ianto was too young to get swept up in all this, too young and naïve. She didn’t know exactly how old he was but there was no way he was older than her, “he’s exhausted and he’s not fighting your battles.” The doctor sighed and shook his head while Rose gave Ianto some water to drink. They didn’t have time for this. 

“Well, what did you say, Doctor?” Sneed was still struggling to wrap his head around what he’d seen, “Explain it again. What are they?”

“Aliens,” the Doctor told him simply.

Sneed floundered, “like foreigners, you mean?”

“Pretty foreign, yeah,” the Doctor agreed, gesturing upwards, “From up there.”

Sneed took a moment to really think about it before asking, “Brecon?”

The Doctor guessed that was the best he was going to get, “Close. And they’ve been trying to get through from Brecon to Cardiff but the road’s blocked. Only a few can get through and even then they’re weak.” He explained, “They can only test drive the bodies for so long, then they have to revert to gas and hide in the pipes.”

“Which is why they need the boy,” Dickens nodded gravely.

“They’re not having him,” Rose was quick to jump in to defend him.

Unable to understand why Rose was fighting against him, the Doctor insisted, “But he can help.” Couldn’t she see that? Ianto had the power to save what was left of an entire species, “Living on the rift, he’s become part of it. He can open it up, make a bridge and let them through.”

“Incredible,” Dickens shook his head and poured himself his fifth, no sixth, glass of brandy, “Ghosts that are not ghosts but beings from another world, who can only exist in our world by inhabiting cadavers.”

“Good system,” the Doctor was honestly surprised he hadn’t heard of it before, “It might work.”

Standing up, Rose left Ianto’s side to argue with him, “You can’t let them run around inside of dead people.” She was shocked the Doctor would even suggest it.

“Why not?” Funny little 21st century humans, he’d never understand their hang ups, “It’s like recycling.”

“Seriously though, you can’t.” Rose stood her ground. 

“Seriously though, I can.” The Doctor shot back without missing a beat, not ready to back down either.

Rose didn’t know how she was going to get him to see sense, “It’s just wrong,” the idea that some alien could just climb inside your skin after you died and wear you like some sort of skin suit was disgusting, “Those bodies were living people. We should respect them even in death.”

The Doctor shrugged, “Do you carry a donor card?”

“That’s different,” Rose felt like she was seconds away from stamping her foot, he wasn’t listening, “That’s-” 

“It is different, yeah. It’s a different morality. Get used to it or go home,” he told her sternly, “You heard what they said, time’s short. I can’t worry about a few corpses when the last of the Gelth could be dying.”

“I don’t care.” Rose said after a few moments of tense silence, Ianto had no place in this, “They’re not using him.” 

“Don’t I get a say, miss?” Ianto finally spoke up from where he’d been sat listening to these people argue over what he should and shouldn’t do. He got enough of that from Sneed, he didn’t need two strangers debating his rights in front of his face like he wasn’t even in the room.

Rose had the decency to look ashamed but that didn’t stop her from trying to mollycoddle him, “Look, Ianto… you,” she told him gently, “you don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You would say that, miss,” Ianto straightened his shirt and swallowed around his nervousness, “because that’s very clear inside your head, that you think I’m stupid.”

Rose shook her head, offended, “That’s not fair.”

“It’s true, though,” Ianto chuckled humourlessly under his breath. He’s seen inside her head, he knows how she thinks and even though she’s trying to do what’s right Ianto knows what he has to do, “Things might be very different where you’re from, but here and now, I know my own mind, and the angels need me.” His decision was final, maybe he’d been given this gift for a reason, it’d be a waste not to use it, “Doctor, what do I have to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything.” He felt it was important to point out, if only to stop Rose from blaming him that Ianto had made his decision.

“They’ve been singing to me since I was a child, sent by my mam on a holy mission.” Ianto smiled at the Doctor, “So tell me.”

Smiling back he approached him, “We need to find the rift. This house is on a weak spot, so there must be a spot that’s weaker than any other. Mister Sneed, what’s the weakest part of this house?” He asked, “The place where most of the ghosts have been seen?”

Sneed thought about it for a moment before grimacing, “That would be the morgue.”

Slouching down to sit next to Ianto, Rose pouted, “No chance you were going to say gazebo, is there?” 

-

The morgue was understandably cold, the recently departed lie under white sheets on metal tables but it wasn’t the dead that frightened Ianto. Oh no, he’d worked for Mr Sneed since he was 12 years old, you don’t go that long without getting used to the dead. It was failing his angels that scared him, all those beautiful souls were counting on him to help them. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he failed and they died… because of him?

“Urgh,” the Doctor broke him out of his musings, “talk about Bleak House.”

“The thing is, Doctor,” Rose was saying, “the Gelth don’t succeed, ‘cos I know they don’t. I know for a fact there weren’t corpses walking around in 1869.”

He didn’t understand half of what they were saying, “Time’s in flux, changing every second. Your cozy little world can be rewritten like that,” the Doctor snapped his fingers, “Nothing is safe. Remember that,” he repeated, “Nothing.”

“Doctor,” Dickens interrupted, “I think the room is getting colder,” he wasn’t wrong.

Looking around at the gas lamps, Rose sighed, still not happy with their plan, “Here they come.”

Blue light came streaming out of the gas lamps, a Gelth coming to stand under a stone archway, “You’ve come to help.” It rejoiced, childlike glee filling it’s voice as it hovered in place, “Praise the Doctor.” It cheered, “Praise him.”

“Promise you won’t hurt him,” Rose stepped forward but was ignored in favour of a plea to hurry.

“Please, so little time,” it begged, “Pity the Gelth.”

Stepping in front of Rose, the Doctor urged her to stand back while he said his piece, “I’ll take you somewhere else after the transfer.” It was al well and good to save them but he couldn’t allow them to roam around on earth. If anyone saw them the timeline could fracture, “Somewhere you can build proper bodies. This isn’t a permanent solution,” he made sure they understood, “all right?”

Ianto was transfixed staring at the Gelth, they were beautiful. The blue mist almost had him hypnotised, he needed to succeed. For them, “My angels,” he glanced at the Doctor and told himself he could do this, “I can help them live.”

“Okay,” the Doctor addressed the Gelth, “where’s the weak point?”

They didn’t waste a second, “Here, beneath the arch.”

Hurrying to do as he was asked, Ianto parroted them, “Beneath the arch.” Standing where he was instructed he let the blue tendrils of gas envelop him.

Rose hated everything about this, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the Gelth were taking advantage of Ianto’s kindness, who know’s what effect this could have on him? Talking to them earlier through him had knocked him out, what if things went wrong? He shouldn’t have to do this, it wasn’t fair, “You don’t have to do this.”

“My angels.” Ianto breathed out.

“Establish the bridge. Reach out to the void.” The Gelth instructed him, “Let us through!”

“Yes, I can see you,” Ianto smiled, “I can see you.”

“Bridgehead establishing,” the Gelth sounded thrilled, “It is begun. The bridge is made!” Ianto’s head suddenly snapped back just like it had done during the séance, only this time his mouth opened wide and thread after thread of blue gas came flying out, “He has given himself to the Gelth. The bridge is open. We descend!” Only that’s when things started to go wrong, the soft blue turned a vivid red and the apparition above Ianto grew sharp teeth, even their voice deepened and hardened to match their new appearance, “The Gelth will come through in force.”

“You said that you were few in number.” Dickens cried when spirit after spirit start coming through.

The Gelth laughed viciously, “A few billion. And all of us in need of corpses.”

The dead started to rise around them, the cold bodies reanimated as the Gelth stole their form, “Ianto, stop this!” Sneed demanded, “Listen to your master. This has gone far enough. Stop dabbling, child, and leave these things alone, I beg of you!” He stepped forward to try and reason with the boy but he wasn’t looking where he was going. Rose’s shouted warning came too late, the cold undead hands of Mr Fitch closing around his neck as his cold empty eyes looked down on him was the last thing he saw before his neck was snapped.

“I think it’s gone a little bit wrong,” the Doctor pushed Rose behind him as the Gelth wasted no time possessing Sneed’s body.

“I have joined the legions of the Gelth. Come,” he got to his feet, “march with us. We need bodies. All of you. Dead.”

Backing up further into the morgue, the Doctor called out to Ianto, “Stop them! Send them back now!” 

“Three more bodies,” the Gelth chorused, “Convert them. Make them vessels for the Gelth.”

Dickens made for the door, “Doctor, I can’t. I’m sorry,” there was nothing he could do, the Doctor and Rose were trapped on the far side of the room, the spirits chasing them and not him, “This new world of yours is too much for me. I’m sorry,” and then he fled, before the Gelth could follow. 

Without much choice the Doctor and Rose hid behind a metal grate in a small alcove, the only place in the room where the corpses couldn’t reach them, “Give yourself to glory,” the Gelth’s terrifying chorus came from the pale blue lips of the dead, “Sacrifice your lives for the Gelth.”

“I trusted you,” the Doctor shouted, “I pitied you!”

“We don’t want your pity.” The Gelth told him, “We want this world and all it’s flesh”

There had to be a way out, “Not while I’m alive,” there was always a way out, the Doctor just had to think of it first.

-

No sooner had Dickens ran out into the street, followed by the haunting blue spirits, did he realise what he had to do. The answer had been staring them in the face the entire time. Gas! He was either a genius with nerves of steel or a complete idiot too stupid to recognise the danger he was putting himself in. If he died he supposed it didn’t matter regardless, what matters he supposed was that he tried at all.

Running back into the house he turned all the gas on, extinguishing the flame first before flooding the place. Once he was sure he had the first floor covered he held his handkerchief tight to his face and stormed the morgue. He was delighted to find the Doctor and Rose still alive, not having succumbed to the Gelth in his absence.

“Doctor! Doctor! Turn off the flame, turn up the gas!” He tried not to choke as the air grew thinner, “Now, fill the room, all of it, now!”

“What’re you doing?” The Doctor asked from behind the metal grating keeping him and Miss Tyler safe.

“Turn it all on,” he hoped he was right, it would be such a shame to have risked his life for naught, “Flood the place!”

“Brilliant!” The Doctor seemed to be on the same page, “Gas!”

Dickens turned on the last lamp, “Am I correct, Doctor? These creatures are gaseous.”

“Fill the room with gas, it’ll draw them out of the host.” The Doctor grinned, “Suck them into the air like poison from a wound!”

Dickens felt the sudden urge to cheer, though he must admit it was squashed down rather quickly once he noticed that the corpses had seemingly become a lot more interested in him. They abandoned the Doctor and Rose, deciding instead to shamble towards him in a most threatening manner, “I hope, oh lord,” he cleared his throat as Mr Redpath blocked his exit, “I hope that this theory will be validated soon,” he amended as they drew closer, “if not immediately.”

“Plenty more!” ripping a gas pipe from the wall, the Doctor helped fill the room and caused the Gelth to be expelled from the bodies they had been inhabiting with inhuman shrieks.

“It’s working,” Dickens said with relief as the Doctor and Rose escaped their make shift involuntary tomb.

“Ianto,” the Doctor shouted, keeping his distance, “send them back. They lied. They’re not angels.”

Ianto seemed to sway for a moment before he asked quietly, “Liars?”

Stepping over the fallen corpses, the Doctor ducked his head to try and meet Ianto’s eye, “Look at me. If your mother and father could look down and see this, they’d tell you the same. They’d give you the strength,” He told him firmly, “now send them back!”

“I can’t breathe.” Rose croaked behind him.

The Doctor kept his eyes on Ianto though, “Charles, get her out.”

Struggling against Dickens, Rose argued, “I’m not leaving him.”

“They’re too strong,” Ianto groaned weakly.

“Remember that world you saw? Rose’s world?” The Doctor coaxed, “All those people. None of it will exist unless you send them back through the rift.” Ianto was the only one who could do it, he was the only person in the world with the power to save it.

“I can’t send them back.” Ianto repeated himself, frustration lacing his words as he struggled, “But I can hold them,” he slumped further, clearly exhausted, “Hold them in this place, hold them here.” He met the Doctor’s eyes as he pulled a box of matches from his pocket, “Get out.”

“You can’t!” Rose cried.

Ianto implored desperately, “Leave this place!”

“Rose, get out. Go now,” the Doctor shouted, pushing her towards the stairs, “I won’t leave him while he’s still in danger. Now go!” He waited until Dickens had Rose out safe before reaching out towards Ianto and the matches, “Come on, leave that to me.” When Ianto didn’t move the Doctor paused and looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were empty. He felt for a pulse but he knew before his fingers touched the mans neck that he was dead, “I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to the man’s forehead, he was little more than a boy, “Thank you.” And then he ran away, too ashamed to look back as Ianto took out a match. 

Rose was watching when the Doctor ran out alone, as the house exploded and sent him flying across the street. Ianto was nowhere to be found, “He didn’t make it.” She said once the Doctor joined them, it was an accusation and all three of them knew it.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, “He closed the rift.”

“At such a cost,” Dickens gazed at the inferno with great sorrow, “The poor child.”

The Doctor couldn’t stand the look Rose was giving him, “I did try,” she had to know he didn’t leave him behind to save his own skin, “but Ianto was already dead. He had been for at least five minutes.”

Rose didn’t understand, “What do you mean?”

“I think he was dead from the minute he stood in that arch.” He didn’t know how but he was almost certain.

“But he can’t have,” Rose shook her head, “he spoke to us. He helped us- he saved us.” It didn’t make sense, “How could he have done that?”

Dickens answered before the Doctor could, “There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Even for you, Doctor.”

“He saved the world,” Rose swallowed, “A servant boy and no one will ever know.”

“We will,” The Doctor told her in an attempt of comfort, “we’ll remember him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Already looking forward to suggestions, criticism and anything in between :) Hope you liked it, Part two coming soon (promise)
> 
> *Spoiler alert*
> 
> *no seriously imma spoil something*
> 
> *you’ve been warned*
> 
> [Ianto’s not really dead.]


End file.
